


you're going the right way for a smacked bottom

by Nemeris (Eris18)



Series: apparently I'm using Shrek quotes as titles now send help [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt wishes that this idiot had more chill, M/M, No seriously he's so feral, but tbh it results in good times, so he doesn't mind really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23454973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eris18/pseuds/Nemeris
Summary: Even hubris couldn’t bring Jaskier down right now.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: apparently I'm using Shrek quotes as titles now send help [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660243
Comments: 6
Kudos: 195
Collections: Witcher





	you're going the right way for a smacked bottom

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, it has been a while! I hope everyone is doing okay out there :)
> 
> Anyway, my friend sent me [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jRHQPG1xd9o). Then this fic happened.

If not for the drowner heads currently hanging off the back of Roach, this would have been a perfect walk. Personally, Jaskier hated the word “balmy” (overused and pretentious as it could be), but unfortunately this was the best word to describe this kind of evening. Thankfully, the background noise of cicadas and frogs was loud enough to stop him thinking about it too much.

Were Jaskier a lesser poet (mentioning no names ~~Valdo Marx~~ ), he’d ponder how the calmness of the evening reflected the calmness that had existed between him and his travelling companion. He’d probably also compose a poem about it that would include predictable rhyming schemes and a line about some “fair maiden’s blue eyes twinkling like the stars in the sky”. Jaskier thanked Melitele - not for the first time, and definitely not for the last - that he wasn’t Valdo Marx.

It was, however, true. Geralt and Jaskier had been more...dare he say friendly? of late. The apology gifts and follow-up...conversation...had certainly helped in that regard. It had certainly removed some of the tension between the two men recently, Jaskier had found that they flowed better together in how they travelled, moved, even packed up their belongings after making camp. Oh, there were still silences between them, but they were infinitely more comfortable than before; Jaskier didn’t feel the need to fill them with chatter or music, and Geralt...wouldn’t have anyway, so not much difference there, then.

As he chuckled to himself at the concept of Geralt chattering inanely, Jaskier could see the first few sparsely situated buildings that indicated a town approaching. New boots aside, Jaskier would be glad of a good night’s rest, though he knew that he’d probably need to sing tonight to cover their next few days, should the drowner conquest not prove fruitful. It was a warm enough night that any windows in a tavern would be wide open, so hopefully that would draw enough of a crowd for him to make some decent money. With that thought, Jaskier picked up the pace: there was coin to be had, after all.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jaskier took the first bath, once they were settled in. He sank into the water, letting the aches and pains of walking for a few days straight fall away, and enjoying the warm breeze that drifted in from the bedroom window and across his skin. Tonight held a particular mood that only came from a summer’s evening and the promise of good music; he was looking forward to tonight’s performance.

The drowners had, as predicted, not proven fruitful. Whilst appreciative, this town only paid out on contract, and so Geralt’s conquest had gone unrewarded other than a free meal and whatever ale or wine the two of them could drink that evening; Jaskier was already on his second glass of Est Est, and was feeling fairly merry. Geralt’s mood was...well, the witcher wasn’t happy. And when Geralt wasn’t happy, Jaskier wanted to cheer him up.

Speaking of which, Jaskier had an idea. It would take a bit of wrangling, and the last of his own coin, but he was fairly confident that what he had thought up would work. However, right now he need only enjoy this bath and get further into the mood. Jaskier downed the rest of his wine and sank further down into the water. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jaskier, though never one to praise himself too highly, was _killing it_ tonight. The combination of a not-too-muggy evening, free-flowing ale among the tavern’s patrons, and his own good mood were all combining to create an excellent performance. Even hubris couldn’t bring Jaskier down right now, no matter how much the bard tempted it by walking over tables as he played, winking at various people as he sang. No, tonight he was as graceful as an elf, and the people were receptive to the mood he was building.

To make it even better, Geralt was there. He had come down after his bath, ostensibly to ask about food and drink; however, thanks to Jaskier’s previous planning, the witcher found himself sitting at a table near the front of the crowd, right in front of Jaskier himself. And Jaskier, whilst surrounded by a very entertained crowd, decided to play for an audience of exactly one at this moment in time.

He knelt on one knee in front of Geralt and started to pluck a slower tune than the crowd-pleasers he had been playing beforehand. It was a newer one, so far hidden in the pages of his new notebook; it was looser, a bit softer, definitely not on the foot stomping end of things. As he sang, he looked directly into Geralt’s eyes, leaning in slightly for a few moments; he grinned as Geralt mirrored the motion.

Ah, so he was being goaded back? Well, Jaskier was the _king_ of teasing; he pulled away, turning to the wider audience once more as he sang on. Risking a glance at Geralt, who apparently had only just remembered that they were in a crowd of people and was glaring at Jaskier. The bard smirked and stepped onto another table, transitioning into a more upbeat number...that he still sang directly at Geralt. Oh, hubris may not bring about his fall, of that Jaskier was sure; an annoyed witcher, on the other hand?

Might as well go out doing what he loved, Jaskier thought as he kept playing.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The final chords of the third encore had yet to fade away as Jaskier found himself gracelessly slung over Geralt’s shoulder. The bard barely had time to grab his newly heavy coin purse, and to swing his lute onto his own back to avoid it getting crushed; as he was lifted away, he graced the crowd with a mock salute and one final wink, to their cheers and cajoling.

It had been a _very_ good performance, Jaskier mused. Of course he had continued riling up the man who was now carrying him...somewhere; hopefully he wouldn’t be dunked in a water trough (again). The crowd had been positively feral for Jaskier’s singing, and it had fed the bard’s own mood as he concentrated on Geralt. Geralt, who had spent most of the evening switching between flirting back silently and glaring whenever Jaskier pulled back. Said witcher seemed to be, thankfully, heading away from anywhere outside, and upstairs. This night may yet prove even _more_ fruitful.

Call Jaskier a Seer, but his prediction proved correct when Geralt put him down inside their shared room. The witcher firmly (and yet still carefully) took Jaskier’s lute and coin purse to put them to one side, pressed the bard back against the door to the room and kissed him rather thoroughly. Jaskier would absolutely deny that he whimpered when Geralt pulled back, though he would (under duress) admit to pouting.

“ _You_ ,” Geralt growled. “All night. Singing.”

“...Well, yes,” Jaskier tried not to smirk. “That is, in fact, my profession of choice?”

“ _At_ me, Jaskier,” Geralt replied, “making a _show_ of it.”

“...And?” Jaskier asked. “Did it not work?”

Geralt growled again and pressed in for another rough kiss, if only to shut the bard up.

Jaskier loved being right; even more than that, he loved when his plans worked. And as Geralt lifted him up and threw him onto the bed, he could definitely say that this one had worked particularly well.


End file.
